


A New Tradition

by Bluewolf458



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 13:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17808599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458
Summary: Jim and Blair decide on a new midwinter tradition for theselves





	A New Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally started for Secret Santa but partly because the beginning was so downbeat I ran out of inspiration and was on the verge of discarding it - thanks to Patt I didn't, but it still took me until into February to finish it.

A New Tradition

by Bluewolf

"What do you normally do for Christmas?" Blair asked as he changed the calendar to December.

"Work," Jim replied, his voice flat.

"I know crime doesn't go away just because it's Christmas, and that at least some cops will have to work, but I'd have thought the detectives, at least, would get the day off... and even the cops working won't be doing twenty-four hour shifts."

"Chief, I hate Christmas... or maybe it would be more accurate to say I hate this time of year?" But after a moment he went on, "No, it is Christmas I don't like. All the 'traditional' stuff... Everyone running around showing what a good time they're having... often spending money they can't afford to give presents of things they like to recipients who mightn't like those things at all... and pretending to like what they're given even if they think the stuff is a waste of money... families who haven't seen each other since last Christmas and haven't had any contact except maybe birthday cards all year falling over themselves to visit... I realized how artificial Christmas is when I was eight."

He seemed to sense what Blair was thinking. "Oh, Dad gave us 'Christmas presents' - it was a convenient way of buying new clothes for my brother and me, saved him the hassle of doing it throughout the rest of the year. And although he expected a present from us he made it clear that a new diary, big enough to record all his engagements, or a set of ball-point pens, or... oh, a pair of gloves, was what he wanted. A present had to be something we needed, not a useless luxury."

"But... I thought he was rich."

"Family tradition, Chief. Presents had to be useful, things that had to be bought anyway. The one tradition we didn't have was having fun."

"Christmas tree?"

"Nope. Not after I was seven."

"Hanging up your stocking?"

"Not after I was seven."

"What about your brother? Did he...?"

"Not after he was five."

Blair frowned. "What happened that year?"

"It's complicated..."

"I can do complicated."

Jim was silent for a moment. "You've always said you don't know who your father is."

Blair nodded.

"Which argues that your Mom wasn't married."

Blair nodded again.

"I don't know that I have the full story, but... my parents weren't married either. At least, not to each other. Dad wasn't married at all, but Mom... she had a husband. He'd been in an accident, had a serious head injury, was paraplegic and didn't really know anyone... he lived in a hospice, needing care 24/365. But Mom refused to divorce him, even though he wouldn't have known... citing her wedding vows. In sickness and in health... However, she didn't take those vows so seriously that she was happy to live totally celibate, and she and Dad had a fairly heavy affair. She ended up pregnant. But after I was born, she gave me to Dad, saying that her husband was slowly - very slowly - beginning to regain some awareness, and she had a responsibility to him.

"Whether that was true or not, Dad decided to cut his losses, found himself another girlfriend within the year, and married her.

"Grace... When I was two, she presented me with a little brother. After that, Dad's urge to make money developed into what I can only describe as an obsession. We rarely saw him. I was six when I overheard them arguing one day. Grace was saying that his family needed him, needed to see him and spend some time with him; he replied that he didn't want his family being poor, he needed to work to make money to give us a good life. That was when I learned about my birth mother; I'd never realized Grace wasn't my mother. Grace wondered if he would have been so obsessed, so willing to be away from home, if 'Jimmy's mother' had stayed with him.

"He was surprisingly forthcoming about that. 'I need to work to provide for my family,' he said. 'Yes, even if Margaret had stayed with me I'd have had to work hard to provide for her and Jimmy... Just as I do for you and Jimmy - and now Stevie as well'." Jim was silent for a moment. "What he didn't tell Grace - then - was that he still loved Margaret... even though she had decided to stay with her paraplegic husband, who had by then had, apparently, made a reasonable recovery from the head injury. That admission came about a year later, during another argument... That was when Grace walked out.

"It was a week before Christmas.

"Thanks to Grace, we had a tree - Dad threw it out the next day. Presents - well, like I said, they were always practical things, so we did get them. I don't say we had no toys, but what we had were all educational in some way." Jim sighed. "After I got back from Peru, I did go to see Dad. Told him I knew about 'Margaret', and asked him if he would tell me anything he knew about her. I don't know if it was the truth, but he told me she had died in 1981. So then I asked him about Grace. He said she'd left Cascade a few months before Margaret died, and he had no idea where she went. He'd been paying her alimony, and her bank had it in a 'dead' account, added to every month by direct debit from Dad's bank. He eventually went back to his lawyer, who got the alimony cancelled, and after a lot of legal arguing the money in the account was made over to Steven, with the proviso that if Grace ever reappeared Steven should refund her that money. But she's never reappeared."

"You know... that makes me wonder... what was life like for your Dad when he was growing up?"

"His parents weren't short of money," Jim said. "But I don't remember ever getting a present from them that wasn't practical. So I imagine that Dad's ideas about presents were - well, inherited. Yes, like Dad they had a house in an affluent part of the town, but that was it. They didn't show off their wealth by their possessions. Grandma didn't have diamond jewelry, or emerald or ruby or anything like that; she always said she preferred semi-precious stones like agate or garnet, set in silver rather than gold. But I'm not convinced it was her choice - I think she was just saying it to keep Granddad happy. Cash in the bank was what was important to him.

"You think the loft was minimalist when you first saw it? My grandparents' house was worse! Their television set was an old black and white one, something like a twelve or fifteen inch screen, that I believe they were given as an anniversary present - something like their fifteenth wedding anniversary - by - I think - Grandma's parents, who weren't as devoted to saving their money as Granddad's. It was pretty well state of the art at the time - and Granddad certainly wouldn't have bought anything that frivolous! When it eventually broke down, they didn't bother buying another one because they couldn't get another black and white one - color? waste of money, Granddad said. Far dearer than necessary. Who needed to pay extra to get color transmission? Black and white had shown them everything they needed." He was silent for another moment. "They died when I was with the Chopek. Grandma died first... Granddad died the next day, and they were buried in a joint funeral."

"So you never got the chance to say goodbye to them," Blair said.

"Well, I did visit their grave after I got home," Jim said. "But if I'm honest, I didn't really like them very much. They were devoted to each other but Granddad, in particular, didn't seem to care much for anyone else - including their three children. Though they left money to Steven and me, and our cousins, as well as Dad and his brother and sister. Well, it kept the money in the family. My share was kept in trust - although I was missing, believed dead, it was going to be several years before I could actually be declared dead. I've never touched that money - it makes a nice reserve in case of accidents - but apart from that, I'm not as stingy as several of my relatives are. Steven isn't, or my cousin Rucker, though I believe a couple of my other cousins are as bad as my grandparents... "

"It's hardly stingy to have a 'do not touch except in emergencies' account," Blair said.

Jim nodded. "I know," he said, "but to consider all your banked money is 'only for emergencies'? Seriously stingy." He looked at Blair, frowning slightly. "What about you, Chief? You said you had a bar mitzvah, so what do you do?"

Blair smiled ruefully. "Left to Naomi, I wouldn't have had one. It was to keep her family happy. Naomi herself - well, you know how much of a wanderer she is. She did leave me with her brother when I was very young, but once I was old enough to walk and carry a small backpack... we went all over the world. She didn't go in for possessions - two or three changes of clothes, that was pretty well all she allowed herself. Having everything in a carry-on bag was cheaper than checking in a bigger bag that would have to go in the luggage hold."

"So you didn't have toys either?"

"I did have one toy - a small stuffed dog. But I wasn't really interested in playing with toys; I ran around, explored where I was, but that was exploring, not playing. I was always more interested in reading, though I could only read if we were in a country that had books I could read and a library where I could borrow them. For example, we had a few weeks in Thailand when I was nine - I learned to speak and understand enough to get by - Naomi used me as an interpreter, the second half of our stay there - but I couldn't make any sense of the writing.

"But I don't remember ever getting an actual present - except maybe that stuffed dog - I don't remember where he came from, if I ever knew. Naomi didn't go in for presents. If I needed new clothes, I got them when I needed them. She tended to go to retreats at the solstices, and you could say it was the winter solstice she celebrated rather than Christmas. I knew about Santa, but she always said that Santa was a made-up being whose only purpose was to - well, blackmail children into behaving so that they'd get toys and things at the solstice, and reminding me that though I preferred books I couldn't carry more than one or two, so I couldn't get another one unless I got rid of the one or two I did have. I started off with Winnie the Pooh. It was joined after a couple of years by The Jungle Book - which I have to admit was a little advanced for me, but I loved reading about Mowgli... But although I loved them both, both had to go as I got older and found other books more suited to my reading age and interests. And after I found The Sentinels of Paraguay... well, I didn't want to get rid of it - ever.

"After I went to Rainier, and had the space to keep a few things... I did buy some books, including one or two I'd had and loved but had to get rid of as I got more interested in non-fiction, and those two were among them. But although I seem to have a fair number of possessions now - I really don't have much that's actually personal. Most of what I have - including books - is for Rainier - my own studies or for my work as a TA."

"You didn't lose those books again when the warehouse... ?"

Blair shook his head. "It wasn't the safest of places, so I kept everything I valued at Rainier. I don't know that anyone breaking in would bother to steal books they might get a total of maybe $5 for in a used book store, but they could destroy them in a fit of temper because they didn't find anything of more value. Though anyone who thought someone living in a disused warehouse would have anything that was valuable would have to be seriously nuts. Someone living in a disused warehouse is as near homeless as it's possible to be without actually sleeping in the street."

Jim gave a wry chuckle. "So neither of us is used to celebrating at this time of year."

"Looks like it, though I do fall in with anything anyone I'm staying with does. But Jim - we're both adults. There's nothing to say we can't start a new tradition just for us."

"Like what?"

"Like... Oh, one present that isn't practical? Maybe a book of jokes, or..." He shook his head. "A lot of what I might think of is practical or useful, is something we might want or need, but isn't something mundane like clothes."

Jim grinned. "Like sending Dad a bottle of expensive single malt Scotch - he likes it if someone else is buying, but only buys run-of-the-mill blends for himself - or Naomi a first-class air ticket to somewhere - you said she usually travels stand-by."

"Telling her we'll be really insulted if she trades it in."

"You think she would?"

"Not impossible, Jim. Money spent on traveling means money not available for living expenses wherever you end up. We stayed at Youth Hostels a lot in the countries that had them - cheapest accommodation around. She'd consider having the money for staying somewhere more important than a really comfortable journey to get there... "

"So a year's payment for the Youth Hostel Association... ?"

"No, she's a life member."

"Oh."

"And in countries like Nepal that don't have youth hostels, she goes to retreats. Studies for a while under a guru. No, finding a present for Naomi - pretty well impossible. Giving her the money you'd spend on a present is simplest."

"That what you do?" Jim asked.

"Yes." Blair was silent for a moment. "It's not as if she's strapped for cash, but she's terrified of finding herself short of money. Like you said about your family - stingy probably covers her attitude too." He sighed. "Since you left home... have you given your Dad anything?"

Jim shook his head. "I've... not quite 'divorced' him - if that's what you'd call pretty well declaring yourself an orphan could be called - but I've found it easiest to forget he exists."

There was another moment of silence, then Jim went on, "It isn't as if he's sent me anything either - not even a Christmas card - though I'm not sure he actually knows my address... though he could send one care of the PD. I think, though, he's been glad to get rid of his freak of a son."

"Freak?"

"Chief, I had the senses when I was very young. Dad wasn't happy about that; said people would think I was a freak if... Anyway, when I was about ten, I managed to... I suppose 'suppress them' is the best description. And they stayed normal until Peru. They were active then, but after I came back to America...

"But anyway, even although I'd suppressed my senses, Dad remained aware that I'd been able to see and hear things... and as I said, he was never happy about it, even when I seemed to be boringly normal."

Blair grinned. "You're calling being normal 'boring'?"

"As a kid... apart from Dad's disapproval - and boy, you knew about it when he was unhappy about something you did - or didn't - do, having the senses seemed... well, fun. Just as long as I didn't say anything about what I could see or hear or... But it was really too easy to slip up and let him know when I had... which I think is why I managed to suppress them."

Blair nodded. "You couldn't blurt out, 'Look at that!' about something a mile away if you couldn't see it either."

"Yeah. But I think he was always afraid that I was just being careful..."

"Do you ever wonder about him now that he's getting older? He'll be... what, getting on for sixty now? And what about your brother? You've never mentioned him before."

"Dad... He turned everything between us into competition, with no credit given for trying hard or doing better. Winning was all that counted. There was one time... Dad had a Cobra - they were pretty rare - I believe there were only about a thousand made during the sixties. It was about the only time he ever bought anything that... well, outstanding. When I was seventeen, and driving, Dad occasionally let me drive it, but only if he was in the passenger seat.

"One time Dad was going on a business trip to Japan, and Steven was the 'in-favor' son going with him - until he arrived home from school with a B. The fact that he was top of the class didn't count - his grade was B, not A. So Dad told Steven that as far as he was concerned the trip was off; I would be going instead. So Steven took a crowbar to the Cobra, then told Dad he'd seen me driving it without permission. Even I could see that there was no way the damage could have been caused by careless driving, and I guessed what Steven had done, but I wasn't about to rat him out, just insisted that I hadn't caused the damage. But Steven got the trip... and while they were away, I hit eighteen, left home, joined the army...

"I hadn't particularly wanted to go on the trip to Japan - having a couple of weeks without Dad around was the real holiday - but I did resent that Steven had lied about me damaging the Cobra and was - in effect - rewarded for it. So although I did visit Dad that once, I've never tried to contact Steven. I can - I suppose - understand his attitude; though I found out later that the teacher in question never gave anyone an A - ever. His view apparently was that to be worthy of an A you had to have an IQ of about 250 and be able to multiply something like 453 by 862 in your head in five seconds flat. To take six seconds instantly dropped you to a B."

"That's harsh!" Blair muttered.

"You could say that. Dad's expectations were bad enough, but as far as I could make out, he was Dad multiplied by a factor of ten."

There didn't seem to be anything Blair could say in response to that. He had sometimes felt that his childhood had been lacking in many ways - yes, he loved Naomi, he appreciated that she had shown him a lot of the world as he was growing up although he would have liked a steady, settled life-style and a permanent father figure in his life. In some ways Eli Stoddard had satisfied that need, after Blair went to Rainier; but the teacher-pupil relationship had always been there. Blair had known that Eli had been afraid that showing obvious affection for the young student was a mistake, aware that it would be too easy for him to be accused of giving Blair marks he hadn't earned. Blair himself knew he had to succeed on proven merit, not on the fact that his adviser regarded him as a surrogate son... just as he regarded Eli as a surrogate father.

"Okay," he said. "How about we agree to forget the past, at least between ourselves, and start a tradition of our own? I don't imagine you'll want a tree - just as I don't really want a menorah. And we don't need to decorate. We don't even have to make our celebration about Christmas... that is, December 25th. Some countries celebrate Christmas on January 6th or 7th - Armenia is on the 6th, if I remember correctly, and Christians in places like Egypt and Ethiopia celebrate on the 7th. We could even go Scottish and celebrate New Year with something other than just watching TV and the ball dropping in Times Square. There's a Scots town - Stonehaven - that brings in the New Year with a procession where the participants swing balls of something burning round their heads. Shetland celebrates Up-Helly-Aa, which is another fire festival, on the last Tuesday in January.

"Ecuador has a sort of fire festival too; they fill scarecrows with paper and set fire to them, or burn photos of things from the past year - presumably things they don't approve of. But two of us can't really have a proper fire festival - though we could take time, during December, to write in a notebook all the things that have worried or troubled us during the year, then ceremoniously burn that on January 1st. 

"Spain... you eat twelve grapes, one on every stroke of the clock at midnight."

"Good way to choke yourself!" Jim muttered.

Ignoring the comment, Blair went on. "At one time in Denmark, people broke plates at the doors of their friends and family, though I understand that's not common nowadays. There's one tradition - I think that's Scotland too - of going for a swim in a local river, no matter how cold it is. In some places the color of your underwear will determine your luck for the year.

"I'm not suggesting we do any of those, but we could exchange a present of something that isn't practical at the New Year, and splash out on some kind of fancy meal. Maybe not on the night of December 31st-January 1st - I got the impression from something Rhonda said that Major Crime gets together that evening to see in the New Year together?"

"Yes," Jim said. "I've always gone to it, to look sort of sociable, but always left not long after midnight. This year, though - I won't go unless they invite you, too," Jim said.

"Jim - I'm just a ride along. You can't expect them to invite me - "

"If they don't, I don't go," Jim repeated. "But I think you're appreciated enough that you'll be invited."

Blair looked slightly doubtful, but let it drop as Jim went on. "We could maybe make 'our' night the evening of January 1st?"

"Or... Twelfth night? Not an obvious one. January 5th?"

"Isn't twelfth night January 6th?"

"Depends on how you count it. If December 25th is the first day of Christmas, which seems logical, the twelfth day is January 5th."

"Good point. Okay - our 'midwinter' holiday will be January 5th."

"And Jim... how about sending your Dad a Christmas card, at least? It sounds as if he was following his family tradition when you were a kid... how about marking our new tradition by sending him at least a card? This year, and maybe next? If he doesn't reciprocate, well, at least you'll have tried, and you can knock him off your Christmas list. You do at least send cards to one or two people?"

"Hard not to send - or at least give - cards to the people in Major Crime; and yes, there are one or two others I send cards to. Not many, certainly - a box of twenty cards is as many as I'm likely to need."

"Snap," Blair chuckled. "In fact, two boxes are likely to do me three years."

"Hey, could we save some money by sending joint cards?" Jim asked.

"Why not?"

"Though... "

"Yes?"

"If forty cards will do you for three years... I'd really have expected you to have a lot more 'send cards to' friends than a dozen or so."

Blair shook his head. "I've got plenty of friendly acquaintances," he said, "but not many real friends. When the warehouse blew up... I told you my back was up against the wall when I asked you for a bed for a few days... and that was true. Frankly... I had nobody else to ask. If you'd totally refused, I'd have ended up living in my car. Yes, I've spent the odd night in my office at Rainier - and when Security checks the place during the night, they're fine if you're there and actually working; even if you're sleeping but are slumped across your desk, clearly having fallen asleep in the middle of grading - they'll waken you and suggest you go home. But if you're obviously using your office to sleep in, you'll be reported to the Chancellor. A couple of TAs were caught out doing that last year, and lost their jobs despite everything their professors could say.

"I was nearly caught out once - I'd planned to grade until I was on the point of falling asleep, then I was going to lie down and sleep for a couple of hours; Security came round while I still grading. Told me that while I was actually working, that was fine, but if - when - I began feeling sleepy I should head home. I took that for the warning it was, and go out to the car if I think I'm going to fall asleep. If anyone checks the parking lot, it's easy enough to say you'd come out to go home, then realized you were too sleepy to drive safely. But if I do have to live in the car, I go to one of several of the more secluded viewpoints for the night - never more than a couple of nights at a time at any one."

"You've actually had to live in your car?" Jim's voice was horrified.

"Not often, but once or twice. There was one time... I'd been on an expedition and we were held up getting back. I couldn't find anywhere affordable in the two days I was back before the semester started - and one of the days was a Sunday, anyway - and spent that semester living in the car, shifting between several viewpoints overlooking the sea. I'd do it again if I had to, though it wouldn't be my first choice - and to be honest, I couldn't have done it when I had Larry. Not practical to have a television in a car."

"I can see that... So - we start our own tradition. A meal and exchange a present on January 5th even if we give out cards at Christmas."

"Seems a good idea. And a card to your father, and maybe one to your brother? If they don't reciprocate, don't bother sending you one back, at least you've tried."

"You send one to your Mom?"

"Yes, but it's always one of those non-religious 'Happy Holidays' cards, and that's what I get from her."

Jim nodded. Then he said, "And I think I might send Dad one of those expensive bottles of Scotch. Maybe not a top-of-the-range one, but something a little fancier than a generic ten-year-old single malt. Maybe twenty-year-old Highland Park or Glen Grant. And something for Steven... though I've no idea what he might like... Since I was the one who stopped speaking to them in the first place, it makes sense for me to make the first gesture towards reconciliation."

"For Steven - maybe just a gift token from - oh, Wilkinson Towers? Plenty of stores there, from run-of-the-mill to top-of-the-range - clothes or liquor or sports equipment... expensive watches... even books if his taste runs that way. If you get the voucher from Wilkinson's office, any of the stores will redeem it."

Jim nodded slowly. "Yes... Since I have no idea where his interests lie these days, a voucher from someplace like Wilkinson's does make sense. And what I do after that will depend on their reaction."

"They might surprise you," Blair said. "It's possible that they'd both like to be reconciled with you, but don't feel you would react well to any contact; they must both be very aware of why you rejected them."

"Yeah, Steven has to have known... though he probably never told Dad."

"Right, then - let's take a day or two to think about what we want to do. And Jim... I'll need a hint about what you might like, at least this first year."

"Something for going fishing in the spring," Jim said. "Half a dozen flies, perhaps - Buck's Bait Shop sells some nice hand-tied ones."

"OK. We'll both go there, you choose what you want and I'll pay."

"And you? A book of some kind?"

"Yes," Blair said. "We can do the same thing - go to a bookshop, I choose a book, and you pay for it."

Jim grinned. "You know," he said, "for the first time in years - since I was seven - I'm actually looking forward to Christmas!"


End file.
